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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258617">validity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker'>ficfucker</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sk dogtruth [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Last Podcast on The Left (Podcast) RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Not Beta Read</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:00:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26258617</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>marcus wants to dig deeper into himself</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ben Kissel/Marcus Parks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>sk dogtruth [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1810639</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>validity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>you guys know the score... cheers</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Being caged up in a stolen car driving out to the west coast with plans to slaughter and slaughter until law catches up to you, leaves you a lot of time to think. And talk. And as Marcus Parks is coming to find out, inflate with a cresting dread and panic.</p><p>Shoving his half eaten onion rings into his left cheek to allow him room to talk, Marcus says, "Wisconsin. Known for deer hunting, yeah?"</p><p>"I swear, Marcus, if this another fetish of yours…"</p><p>"What I'm gettin' at is, you musta seen a lot of ya know, hanged and stripped animals."</p><p>Ben reaches over and snatches some onion rings from Marcus' lap. "Oh yeah. Every year."</p><p>Marcus swallows. "You think that—you ended up like—"</p><p>"Why are you so on about that all of a sudden?" Ben snaps.</p><p>"On about what, Ben?"</p><p>"The cause! The why!" Ben shakes his head, uses his left hand to dust away the crumbs that have gotten caught up in his mustache. "Why does it matter so much to you?"</p><p>Marcus wipes the grease from his fingers onto his ratty blue jeans. "Didn't have bad parents. Wasn't hit as a child. Just wanna know… why me?"</p><p>"I don't think being knee deep in cow guts helped."</p><p>Marcus snorts, exhales from his nose. "Sure, but hundreds of thousands of kids all over the world grow up like that, end up perfectly fucking functional."</p><p>Ben says, "Crossed wires."</p><p>"Not funny."</p><p>"I'm not trying to be funny."</p><p>Marcus scowls, suddenly soured. He doesn't want any more onion rings and shoves them into Ben's lap, who grumbles, complains. Marcus pats around for a pack of cigarettes and comes up empty. He flops his head back and groans.</p><p>"Goddamn Alcatraz in here. I'm getting stir crazy," he whines.</p><p>Ben sighs. "We'll find a spot to stop off in a minute, Mr. Impatient. Jesus. One track mind."</p><p>"Don't ever hear you complain when the track I'm on is suckin' your dick."</p><p>"Hey, I wouldn't say no."</p><p>Marcus laughs meanly. "Tough tit. I'm still on about the why."</p><p>Ben makes a noise. Annoyed. He shoves another onion ring in his mouth. "Got all fucked up and turned around with slaughter. Done. Case closed. What more do you need? A certificate?"</p><p>Marcus sighs and angles his body away so he's turned to the window. He can see the ghostly reflection of himself. Gaunt, sunken eye sockets. His unwashed hair falling into his face in dark slashes. Curls down around his ears it's so long now.</p><p>Childhood really wasn't anything extraordinary. Helped around the ranch. Hated it most of the time, but that anger wasn't big enough to be righteous. Never dreamt of family annihilation. School was fine. Drugs came easy and he fucked around with acid. Weed, naturally. Huffed paint and lacquer and any other fume he could capture in a trash bag and snort.</p><p>Thousands of other kids were brought up the same way.</p><p>What flipped the switch?</p><p>Marcus is still mulling it over when Ben clicks the signal on and they coast into a near empty gas station. Ben tosses him a few loose bills, says, "Put money on the pump. Rest is for you."</p><p>Marcus gets out and enters the small convenient store. A teenage girl is at the counter and Marcus puts $10 on 2 then browses the chips. He'll need to save enough for cigarettes. Not in the business of gas station robbery.</p><p>Not yet.</p><p>He slaps down a bag of pickled onion potato skins and a generic chocolate bar. Asks for the cheapest smokes the girl can give him. She rings him up and thanks him for his patronage.</p><p>Ben's still pumping gas when Marcus returns to the car.</p><p>The sky is pulling fat clouds together, a stockpile of darkened wool about to burst with rain. It's not doing much to help Marcus' mood. He sits passenger and absently chews his candy.</p><p>On the road again, Marcus fidgets. He's trying to ration hiss cigarettes. They're starting to thin out on funds and that means settling down in a motel for a week or two and working odd jobs. Less than ideal. Pushing to California would be suicide, though.</p><p>Maybe a break from the road would mellow him out. Feel less like he's running and more like he and his lover are on vacation.</p><p>Marcus opens his mouth to suggest it, but Ben is still in a mood. He gives him a look then clicks on the radio. They listen to the tail end of a Metallica song. Marcus fiddles with the buttons.</p><p>"Wait, wait, wait. Go back!"</p><p>"What?" Marcus asks, but he obeys. He scrolls the knob in reverse until he lands on a new report and Ben slaps his hand away, cranks the volume.</p><p>"—was a deliberate and intentional fire, forensic teams are saying, as evidence of an acelorator, such as gasoline, was discovered on the interior of the vehicle. Though plates were switched and the car was found more than two states away from where it was registered and subsequently stolen, investigators are also reporting that they have been able to identify the owner."</p><p>Marcus stops breathing. The Blazer suddenly transforms into a wind tunnel, the blood and air rushing through his ears. He angles his head closer to the speaker, knees pulling up to his chest.</p><p>"The body found inside, brutally stabbed to the point of abdominal eveceration, has been identified as a local man in his mid 30s, but no name has been released to the public yet. Crime scene investigator and lead detective, Lieutenant Henry Zebrowski, urges anyone with possible information to contact his office to local authorities—"</p><p>"They put it out in time," Ben says.</p><p>"Hope they can positively ID the victim as a queer basher."</p><p>Ben snorts. His mustache twitches. "Soon as they get killed, they become a martyr."</p><p>The radio rambles on, "—with stab wounds numbering more than 30 total, to the chest and neck, this crime has been labeled one of passion, and is assumed to be committed by someone the man knew due to the nature—"</p><p>"Oh shit," Marcus laughs. He's downright giddy. "You hear that? They're off by miles!"</p><p>Ben grins, shows his bottom row of teeth. "I think that might just answer your question."</p><p>"What's that?"</p><p>"You kill from a place of passion. You kill because it's fucking fun."</p><p>Marcus swells with pride, delighted, and curls his spidery fingers around Ben's thigh. Wiggles closer to him so they're flushed, side by side. "Goddamn right. Marcus Parks History be damned." Marcus holds his free hand out in the pantomime of raising a wine glass. "I kill to be the ender of life. To be God and executioner of whoever crosses my fucking path."</p><p>"Giving me a boner talking like that."</p><p>Marcus laughs and collapses against him, deadweight and loose. "Find a motel for the night then," he murmurs, still shivery with joy. A smirk slashed over his face. "Kick back, stay a while."</p><p>"Fuck like gay rabbits, you mean."</p><p>"Well, of course, Benjamin, that's a given."</p><hr/><p>Ben's the right amount of drunk that lifting Marcus bridal style seems appropriate. He sweeps him under the knees and scoops him. All bones and right angles. Like lifting a feather. Marcus implodes with snorting giggles and clutches the case of beer closer to his chest to ensure he doesn't drop it.</p><p>Ben places a wobbling foot firmly on the craggy concrete sidewalk. Good thing Marcus was the designated driver. Ben's further gone than he initially thought, but he gives it all his focus and manages his way down the short, dark path. Marcus produces the room key and Ben pushes the door open.</p><p>The blue-glow reflection of the pool outside bathes their room in dreamy light.</p><p>Ben tosses Marcus onto the bed, who crackles with laughter, bounces up like a writhing fish. He sits up and sits cross legged. He holds his trigger finger up and says, trying his hardest to sound serious, "Tomorrow. We get jobs."</p><p>"Make more money selling your scrawny ass out."</p><p>"Wanna pimp me all of a sudden?"</p><p>Ben smiles wickedly and sheds his jean jacket. It's less seductive than he intended, shrugging it off with medium difficulty, but Marcus is pretty plastered, so the mood isn't lost. He kneels on the edge of the bed, bows his large body over Marcus until they're forehead to forehead.</p><p>"You're all mine, Parks." Half his face is illuminated with a wavering, watery blue. </p><p>"All yours," Marcus breathes out, eyes fluttering shut.</p><p>"I'd <em>kill</em> before I let anyone else even look at you."</p><p>Marcus licks a kiss into his mouth. He throws his arms around Ben's neck. "Prove it."</p><p>Ben proves it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>not particularly happy with this one but hey, finally added henry</p><p>let me know what you think, thanks for reading &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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